Dog Days Are Over
by Rainmaker221
Summary: Before every big moment, there's another moment, a quieter softer moment. Not necessarily peaceful or happy, but quiet. But then the big moment comes, and everything changes. For Allen, his moment, will be the Courser. Finally he'll find one, finally there will be a clear path from him to the Institute, from him to Shaun. Part 6 of the Living Legends Series.
1. Chapter 1

_Knock knock._

Not for the first time, Nat was alone in the house. For the last week, it had just been her and Piper.

She shouted through the metal door, "Who is it?"

"It's me."

"Who's me?"

"Nat, it's Allen. Open the door."

Nat opened the door, but didn't let him through it.

"So you're the guy she's always traveling with," she commented, partly hiding behind the door.

"Yeah, that's me," Allen peered into the house, "Is Piper here?"

"No," Nat turned away, leaving the door open, "She'll be back soon enough, you can wait here if you want."

For a moment, Allen just stood awkwardly before following Nat and closing the door behind him.

Nat went back to the couch and her comics while Allen stood there, not doing anything.

"Mind If I use your table?" he asked, pointing at toward the dining room.

"Knock yourself out." Nat flicked her hand in the table's general direction.

They were quiet, all the way from Allen laying a towel out over the table, until he started disassembling his rifle.

"So you're 'Blue,'" Nat said, appearing across the table and breaking Allen out of his concentration.

"That's me," he said, scrubbing one of the parts of his rifle with a small cloth.

"You don't look like much." Nat tilted her head at the man, "From the way Piper talks about you, I expected something...more."

"I live to disappoint."

"She does talk about you a lot."

"Sure she does," Allen said, clearly more focused on the parts of his rifle than Nat.

"She even says your name in her sleep."

At this Allen stared pointedly at Nat, an amused look coloring his eyes.

He dismissed the idea with a light chuckle.

"No, she doesn't."

"No, she doesn't," Nat confirmed, "How'd you know?"

"You're her sister," Allen started reassembling the gun, "I can't believe a word out your mouth."

"Do you have any sisters?" she asked, crossing her arms on the table.

"Nope," he popped a few more pieces into place, "Had a few friends I thought of as brothers, but I was an only child."

Nat opened her mouth to say more, but was interrupted by the door opening.

"Nat, I'm ho-" Piper started before noticing her guest.

"Blue!" Her eyebrows raised, "I wasn't expecting you for a while."

"You're friend's no fun," complained Nat to Piper.

Piper rolled her eyes at the little one. She looked at Allen.

"What did you do?"

"Apparently, I'm not very gullible." He shrugged with a poker face that was almost perfect

"Oh God," Piper pressed a hand to her forehead, "What did she tell you?"

"For the sake of our dignity, let's shorten to 'you sleep-talk'."

People less adept wouldn't have noticed how hard Allen had to try to conceal his laughter.

"Alright, that's it." Piper made shoing motions at Nat, "Go play somewhere else, the adults need to talk."

"I'll bet you do." Nat mumbled, making her way out the door.

Allen smacked his magazine into his rifle.

"She always like that?"

"She's going through a phase," Piper admitted, "Seriously though, what brings you here?"

"I was in the neighborhood," Allen stood up and shrugged. "Boss has me checking the dead drops, thought I'd drop by and say hello."

"That's nice of you."

"I have my moments, few and far between though they may be." Allen slung his rifle over his back and made for the door.

"Leaving already?" Piper asked, tilting her head at him.

"There's a moderate chance I'm still on shit detail," he admitted, pulling his bandana on. "I'd rather not stay on it 'cause I was late."

"Okay," Piper allowed, but quickly held her hands up, stopping him in place. "Wait right there, don't move." Piper rushed upstairs.

"What am I waiting for?"

"Just hold on," Piper insisted, already on her way downstairs, a small package in her hand.

"Happy birthday."

She held out the Package for Allen.

"Thank you," a warm look Piper recognised spread over his eyes, "Do you want me to open this now or later?"

"Now, please," she requested.

Allen pulled the packaging off slowly and methodically, careful not to tear the paper, revealing a classic, paisley-print blue bandana.

In response, all Allen did was shoot Piper a confused look, holding the bandana out at eye level.

"I know you, well, you told me the story of Prague," she started to explain, "You told me about the lessons you learned and, well, I don't want to take that away from you, but…"

Allen was trying to pay attention, he really was, but she was cute when she was stumbling over her words.

"But I was hoping this could mean something else," Piper finally summed up.

"What would you want it to mean?"

"That you don't have to be that man anymore," she said, finding her confidence, "You're a good man, Blue, no matter who you used to be. I was hoping that you'd remember that, in the end, you're a good man and my best friend."

"Thank you, Piper." A familiar look crossed Allen's eyes and he reached for the ties of his bandana. "Truly."

"You don't have to wear it now," she said.

"I know, But what the hell," Allen assured her, as if that explained everything.

Piper thought she knew what expression Allen would be wearing under the bandana, she really did.

She knew those eyes well enough by now, knew when he was smiling, knew when he was angry, even knew when he was hiding something. But on balance, he'd spent more time with that bandana on than off, so while she knew every crinkle of his eyes and forehead, the rest stayed mostly hidden.

So when he pulled off that bandana and she got to see the grin that accompanied those eyes, it was new, but more than that, it changed the old. Because these were her favorite eyes, they were the eyes of the fresh smell of power noodles, of a favorite song on the radio, of seeing her safe after a firefight, of returning to Old North Church.

She suddenly realized how often her Blue actually smiled, how many things he actually liked, maybe even loved. She suddenly realized a lot of things, because in the amount of time it took Allen to take off his old bandana, and tie on the new one, she suddenly realized that she had fallen in love with this old world relic.

Damn it.

"Well I should be heading back," Allen said, pulling Piper out of her epiphany, "Wanna come?"

"I'm good," she mumbled, barely more than a whisper, "thanks."

"Well alright then." Allen made for the door, giving Piper an affectionate clasp on the shoulder. "See you around."

"See you 'round," she mumbled again, likely having gone unheard, given Allen was already out the door.

"Fuck," she said to the empty room.


	2. You've got the love

Allen was five steps into Old North Church, before he did a quick circle in place, gave a subtle smirk, and declared, "You can come out now, Deacon."

Caught then, Deacon did as told and emerged from the shadows with a stealth boy shimmer.

"How'd you even know I was there?" he asked, stepping beside Allen as they made their way through the church and into the catacombs.

"Either I'm that good, you're not that good," Allen listed, "Or I do that everytime I come into the church just in case."

"You're kidding," Deacon accused, only for Allen to respond with a vague shrug, prompting a change in subject, "So, what's with the new bandanna?" he asked, pointing at Allen's chin.

"Oh," Allen reflexively tapped his chin, "it was a birthday present from Piper."

"Oh, today's your birthday," Deacon commented, holding open the door for Allen, "that's really -"

"SURPRISE!"

" - adorable how you think I didn't know that"

Despite how the hustle and and bustle of Railroad operations had been replaced with a more celebratory mood and a modest banner saying "Happy birthday The Operative," as well as a table with more alcohol than was behind the bar at "Captain Kelly's Kitchen," the HQ was much the same as it ever was.

"What the hell is this?" Allen demanded, a subtle laugh coloring every syllable.

"Every now and again, we like to celebrate our victories" Desdemona explained, approaching Allen with a glass of clear, and clearly not water, liquid, "There have been a lot of victories lately, and it's coincidental timing," she handed the glass to allen, "I hear vodka's your favorite."

Allen accepted the glass, lifted his bandana, and drained it.

"Does that answer your question?"

* * *

"So," Deacon took a deep swig from his glass, "There we were, buck naked, standing in front of like, four dead gunners, and I look over at Whispers and asked him 'where did that grenade come from?'"

"Oh Jesus," Glory exclaimed, rubbing her eyes.

"So, Whispers looks at me," Deacon continues, "and says 'for my dignity and your innocence let's say God.'"

The audience was a fair mix of horrified and amused.

"So how much of that was true?" Allen asked, doing a poor job of hiding his amusement.

Deacon grinned and then shrugged.

"Tommy Whispers and I went on an op together once."

* * *

"Three two's," Desdemona bid.

The Railroad took to Liar's Dice like mirelurks to water.

"I can tell you're bluffing," Deacon bragged in a singsong tone.

"How?" she demanded.

"Other than you haven't check your dice?" Allen pointed out.

"I still say your sunglasses are cheating," Glory complained, pointing at Deacon.

"If the Operative can wear his bandana then I can wear my sunglasses," he reasoned.

"Besides," Allen added, "If we take off those sunglasses, I'm pretty sure there'll just be a smaller pair of sunglasses."

* * *

Tinker Tom and Drummer Boy sat across from each other, a line of six shots in front of each man.

In synch, they each reached for a glass, raised them, clinked them, drained them, and sat them back down on the table.

"You're out of your depth here, rookie," Tinker Tom taunted.

"My liver ain't shot from battery acid injections, old timer," replied the younger man.

Allen leaned over to Doctor Carrington from the sidelines, "Is that how livers work?"

"Quiet," Carrington ordered, "I'm trying to make sure these fools don't get themselves killed."

The duo downed another shot seamlessly.

"Ten caps on Tom," Deacon wagered.

"Oh no," Allen shook his head, "I lost enough caps on dice, you're not gonna cheat me out of more."

"It's not our fault you can't bluff for shit," Glory teased him.

Tom and Drummer had their third shot.

"This is gonna end badly," Deacon predicted, "The question is how badly?"

"Just try not to get 'Mr. Handy disguise' drunk," Allen begged, "I didn't know it was possible to make a robot feel sheepish but somehow KL-E-O has been acting that way around us since then."

Deacon was unfazed.

"In my defense," he said, "I was left unsupervised."

* * *

"Alright," Deacon said, interrupting himself halfway through a drink, "Spill, how is it that I can never sneak up on you?" he pointed at Allen

Allen deflected, "I'm just good."

"Look, the Operative, nobody's that even know where I am when I'm using a stealth boy and not even moving."

"Alright," Allen acquiesced, leaning in, "But you gotta keep this under your hat, I like having this ace up my sleeve."

"I promise," Deacon raised a hand, "Not to tell anybody, or at least to kill the people I accidently tell." He winked at his friend.

Allen tapped his temple, "Neural implant," he explained, giving a grin, "Was part of an experimental program way back when. The Cabot family funded them."

"So you can see me when I use a stealth boy?"

"It's not perfect," Allen shrugged, "I can't see specific details, or what your carrying, but with practice you get good at guessing."

"So what does that 'look,'" Deacon made air quotes around look, "like?"

Allen threw his arms up in exasperation. "Rain on glass?" he said, not overly certain of his answer, "Remember, keep this under your wig."

Deacon made a locking motion on his lips, then threw away the key.

"Now if only we could actually lock your mouth up," Allen grumbled, "We'd all be much fucking happier."

* * *

While the party wasn't exactly ending, it was starting to settle down, the heavy drinkers had broken off to make their own fun elsewhere, the lightweights and the sober folks had made their way to bed, which left people who could hold their liquor, people like Allen and Glory.

"So, what were the CIA's parties like?" Glory asked Allen, who just held out a finger, given he had just taken a large bite of a snack cake.

"Depends on the party," he said, his voice muffled by the snack, "A lot of the parties we went to we went as 'security,'" He emphasised his point with air quotes, "So we weren't allowed to drink, and they weren't so much parties as they were a bunch of self-absorbed pricks eating expensive food and drinking expensive drinks, pretending that they were saving the world."

"I take it you weren't a fan," Glory observed, holding back laughter.

"As a general rule, no," Allen confirmed with a furtive shake of his head. "This is more my scene, good booze and good company."

"I'll raise a glass to that," She said, doing exactly that with her cup of water, before veering off topic. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

Allen just made a vague "go on" motion.

"Aside from the obvious answers, what do you miss the most?"

Allen chuckled at the question.

"If this is the kind of conversation we're gonna be having, I'm gonna need a bit more vodka," he said, reaching for a bottle.

"This is gonna be the part of the night where we go from 'it was fun' to 'mistakes were made' isn't it?" Glory laughed, reaching for a pair of glasses.

"Glory," Allen gave a wide grin, and poured some of the drink into their glasses, "I very rarely make mistakes."

They toasted and downed the liquor.

The night progressed as most parties do, there were highs, there were lows. Stories only some will remember, stories only some would want to tell.

Laughs were had, fuzzy memories induced; mistakes, most definitely, were made.

* * *

How do you know you're about to have a very long day? When the pounding headache of a hangover is the last of your concerns.

The tenth grade protocol was supposed to be Allen's first concern. He was supposed to wake up in a place he didn't remember falling asleep and immediately start trying to figure out what happened.

Instead, his dreams lingered with scattered voices and images.

" _Surviving was a mistake," then came the sound of gun cocking. "This isn't a good world," and holding someone warm in his arms. "Why did it have to be us," something warmer in his arms. "Tell me the truth," something wet in his arms, "tell me the truth." Red_.

It didn't take long for Allen to change from awake to aware, but it felt like forever, like the dreams had to fall and scatter like paper in the wind, until finally the last little bit was gone.

And then, it was business as usual.

Right, the tenth grade protocol.

Item one was always the same: was he still wearing the same clothes he last remembered wearing.

Being naked was not a good start to the tenth grade protocol.

"I know you're awake," being naked on a cot with someone also isn't good, "You're not twitching anymore, so I'm assuming the nightmares over."

At least it was Glory, that or deacon got breast implants and could mimic Glory's voice...yeah, it was Glory.

"I'll try not to take this personally."

Had he not responded?

"G'morning, Glory," was all he managed to groan out, "Where are we?"

While not the most pressing question, it was the easiest to process.

"A quiet spot, we've set aside for occasions like this."

And it all came crashing down...well not all of it, but certainly enough vague flashes to put the pieces together. Allen had slept with Glory.

In a flash, he was up and out of the cot, and then in another flash, he was back on the ground.

"You okay, old man?" Glory asked the prone and groaning man.

"Would you believe me if I said fine?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Then I'm doing dandy, thanks for asking." Allen very slowly made his way to standing again. "Where are my clothes?" he asked, looking around the room, only managing to find his bandana.

"Over there," Glory pointed at the corner, which held a mixed pile of his and her attire. "I was surprised you could aim that well."

"I'm very," Allen made his way to the pile as quickly as he spoke, "Well, I'm usually- I'm actually..." He started pulling the clothes on. "I like to know where my stuff is," he mumbled through a shirt. The moment he had more clothes on then off he made for the door.

"Allen.," Glory called, moments before he left, stopping him dead in his tracks. "Can you hold on a minute?" she requested, standing up.

"I mean.." Allen tied his bandana on and visibly relaxed, "probably."

"Look," Glory pulled on a shirt and made her way to the man, "I get it, last night was a mistake-"

"It wasn't a mistake," he interrupted, "it's just...not something I would have done sober."

"Isn't that exactly a mistake?" She asked, standing a safe distance away from him.

If Allen hadn't already been wearing the bandana, Glory would have seen Allen's mouth bobbing open and closed like a fish.

"Look," Glory wringed her hands, "You want this to be a one time thing? That's fine. You want to talk this out and see where this leads us, that's fine too."

"Can I think about it?" Was all Allen managed to say, desperately trying to find a graceful way to leave the room.

"Take your time." Glory said, motioning to him with her hand.

Allen's hand was on the doorknob for quite a bit longer than strictly necessary.

"Thank you," he said, for all intents and purposes talking to the door, "For last night. It, well, it meant a lot."

He quickly left, and Glory started putting the rest of her clothes on.


	3. I'm not calling you a liar

In the ruins of what used to be the Commonwealth Institute of Technology there was a room, and in that room there was a bench, and on that bench there were two men sitting back to back.

The pair were waiting for a runner and the synth they were escorting.

"You slept with Glory?" Deacon asked, his pitch rising until it practically attracted dogs.

"Yes!" Allen responded, clasping one hand over his ear, "Now would you quiet down?"

"I'm sorry," Deacon apologised quickly, switching to a low whisper "It's just...It's you."

"I know it's me." Allen nodded, "And now you're whispering."

"And it's Glory." He said, returning to a normal speaking volume.

"I'm aware of who I was sleeping with."

The duo shifted in their seats, both staring at one of the two doors leading into their room.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Deacon asked, tilting to look over his shoulder, but still not quite getting a good look at his friend.

"What's there to talk about?" Allen demanded, thumbing the bridge of his nose "I don't kiss and tell."

"I'm not digging for gossip," Deacon deflected with a wave of his hand, "but, and there's a small chance I'm wrong, isn't this the first...time," He gave a vague chopping motion with his hand "so to speak, you've had since your wife?" Allen nodded, and while Deacon didn't see it he took Allen's silence as a yes. "I'd wager stuff like this can be hard."

"You're a good friend Deacon," Allen leaned forward a bit, "but stuff like this I need to handle on my own."

The duo sat in silence for some time, there was an occasional cough, or a tapping of a foot, the silence went on for so long that Allen gave a small start when Deacon broke it.

"I appreciate the sentiment," He said, staring dead ahead, "Truth is, it's been a while since I've had a friend like you." Allen gave a disbelieving chuckle, "I mean it!" Deacon insitted "I know it's hard to believe, me being a liar and all"

"It's alright Deacon." Allen reached back and slapped Deacon on the shoulder, "I get it."

"No it's not." Deacon shook his head and scooched forward, out of Allens reach. "I'm a liar, because it's better than the truth."

"And what's the truth?"

"I'm a fraud." Deacon said the word tentatively, but harshly as if it was the worst thing a man could be, but was too dangerous to say, "To the very core." Deacon adjusted his sunglasses, but went on. "When I was young, a hell of long time ago I was, well, I was scum, I was a bigot, I was a very violent bigot."

"You couldn't have been that bad." Allen offered, as if giving Deacon a chance to take it all back.

"Worse. I ran with a gang In University point, we called ourselves the UP Deathclaws, for kicks we'd terrorize anyone with thought was a synth." The couldn't see each other, they didn't try too, they both thought they'd knew what they'd see, "We kept egging each other on, started with some property damage, a few beat downs, and then well a lynching." Deacon didn't want to see the disgust on his friends face, he didn't...couldn't face it.

"I didn't know."

"No one does," Deacon leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "I turned my backs on my 'brothers' broke all contact, enough time passed, I could almost pretend it didn't happen, I became a farmer believe it or not," Deacon let out a humorless chuckle at the memory.

"I believe it."

"Then, one day I found someone." He began to grin wistfully "She saw something In me I didn't know was there, Barbara, that was her name, Barbara."

"I gathered,"

"She just…was" Deacons smile dropped, "We were trying for kids. Eeking out a living, but one day, turns out she was a synth." Deacon stood up a little straighter, "She didn't know, I didn't know, I have no idea how they found out but somehow the Deathclaws found out. There was blood."

"So they killed her?" It was a question that both already knew the answer to, but it had to be asked.

"Yes." Deacon nodded, "I don't remember much, but I know I killed most of the claws, guess I made an impression," Deaon nodded again, as if each nod propelled the words forward "The Railroad contacted me, guess they thought I'd be sympathetic." Allen didn't respond, there wasn't much to say, "I don't know why I even lie." Deacon stretched his arm, rolling it back, "But I can't tell the truth-Tom, Des, you, even that asshole Carrington deserve to be in the Railroad."

"And you don't?"

"Of course I don't" Deacon gave a half glance back, still not completely turning around, "I'm everything wrong with this whole fucking commonwealth, I'm a murderer, and a fraud, you're the best friend I got and I don't deserve you being okay with this." He slumped forward again.

There wasn't much hesitation behind Allen's response.

"You're a damn sight better man than I am." Allen kept his gaze firmly planted on beyond the door.

"That can't be true." Deacon said, giving a glance back.

"Can't it?" Allen asked, not breaking his stare forward, "What do you think the CIA did, made _me_ do?" Allen pointed at his chest, "Kidnappings, assassinations, illegal drug and arms trade." He shook his head, but he kept staring at the same spot, "And that was just the small stuff, you're the product of broken world, Deacon, I helped break it."

"That can't be true." Deacon repeated. There was a long pause as if, for a moment, Allen was going to let Deacon think that.

"In October of 2074 there was chemical attack of the City of Kiev, in the country of Ukraine a nation that bordered Russia." Allens tone was steady, unyielding, and left no room for interruption, "On the first day a fifth of the city's population died horribly. Most of the city was rendered unlivable and whoever lived there was displaced. In the end nearly three million people either were killed, or forced from their homes." by this point, Deacon had completely turned around, but Allen remained statuesque. "The initial investigation suggested the states were in some way responsible, but as it progressed it was gradually revealed that it had been a KGB black cell, intending to frame America, to separate us from our allies. When this was revealed public sympathy for russia declined dramatically, Ukraine even allowed American military bases to be built within its borders." He finally twitched, if only to scratch his nose. "It gave the States a staging area for a potential war, all we needed was a clean shot." Allen shook his head, "But we never got it, and a few years later the world ended."

"Running the risk of interrupting," Deacon started, only to be interrupted.

"I know most of this because I was there. An organization I was undercover with was contracted to help, I was there the entire time, setting out bread crumbs for the authorities to follow, mistakes and leads and trails." Allen starting rubbing his hands together, as if to keep warm, "Setting charges, providing product, I could have stopped it, saved all those people. Instead I helped, I helped murder nearly half a million people, and destroy the homes of the rest. All to give the US a leg up on russia."

Allen shoulders started to heave, "and you know what the punchline is? It didn't work!" He let out broken barks of laughter, as if he couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry, "Years of bloodshed and none of it meant anything, every life I ever saved was meaningless, and sacrifice I ever made was in vain." With one quick wipe of his eyes, Allen seemed to regain his composure, "If there were any justice in the world, than it would have been Nora to live, but I couldn't save her, so I have to save Shaun."

"Listen," Deacon tried to interrupt again, but Allen would not be denied

"Even after all this time, I still haven't learned my lesson, I'm still selfish enough to think I deserve to be a father, to have Shaun."

The duo fell into silence. For a moment, they thought that there didn't need to be that they had reached an understanding, but paranoia came with the territory, so Deacon felt the need to make sure that the subtext became text.

"If nothing else," he said, clasping Allen on the shoulder, "you've saved my life, and you're still the best friend I've ever had,"

Allen nodded, "thanks." there wasn't much else to say, so the silence continued.

Once, the silence had been so thick it felt like it would suffocate them, but now it was light and clear, even the sun seemed a little bit brighter.

The silence would have gone on, until the Runner and the Synth came, and then the work would have continued. But instead, Allen's Pipboy squawked to life.

"What's that?" Deacon asked, turning around enough to see Allen's cheshire grin.

"A signal, It means a coursers nearby" He explained, standing up, "Finally, some luck." he bolted out the door.

"That can't be good." Deacon complained to an empty room, before following Allen.


	4. Falling

So here's the question of the hour, If there was absolutely nothing you can do to help someone, is it better to be by their side or or far away?

Deacon tried to keep up with Allen, but the man was relentless; running this way and that, ignoring everything from Raider to Super Mutants, he finally managed to track his friend to and up the Greentech Genetics building. But by the time Deacon caught up with Allen, the Operative had already caught up with the Courser, and the fight was already well underway. Allens arms and even the side of his head were singed with the telltale signs of laser burns, showing that even in the brief time he was alone, Allen had already had to many close calls.

Deacon had tried to help, even had the Courser in his sights before the synth disappeared into a stealth boy shimmer.

Deacon blocked the entrance, and kept his eye on the balcony exit, ready to see the door open and take his shot, but he had misread the Coursers intentions, and instead Allen found himself fighting an invisible enemy.

Deacon tried to sight the Courser, but all he could see was the damage it was doing to his friend, his head flying back blood dribbling from his mouth, bruises and bumps forming.

"Paint the target!" Deacon shouted, Allen didn't give a sign that he had heard, but Deacon had hoped he had.

Laser shots began to appear from the center of the room, each time accompanied by Allen swatting the air in front of him, seeming to almost push the laser away from him. Slowly he had managed to fill his hands with switchblades, and just as Deacon started to celebrate the fact that one of them seemed to get stuck in the air, maybe being imbedded in the Coursers heart, A blue laser blew through Allens gut, and moments later the spy fell to floor.

The switchblade stayed in the air, and Deacon aimed just a few inches above it, and took his shot, likely far from a bullseye, but if the burst of red was any indicator he still hit his target.

The Courser reappeared and Deacon only had enough time to process that it was aiming it's sidearm at him, before the downed Allen jabbed his last switchblade into the back of its knee, the Courser took a moment to slam his foot down on Allen's arm, and with that moment wasted Deacon took another shot at the Courser. For a moment the three were still, before Deacon fired again just to be sure, putting the Courser on the ground permanently.

"We need to get the chip," Allen said crawling towards the corpse.

"You need a stimpak," Deacon argued, running towards his friend, a needle in hand.

"Chip first." Allen sat up, and dragged the Coursers head onto his lap.

"Just hold still" Deacon grabbed Allen's arm and pulled his sleeve up, Jabbing the stimpak into his arm.

"Thanks," Was all he said, he pulled his switchblade out of the Coursers gut, and made to start cutting at the neck, but before he could he fell limp on the ground.

* * *

The thing about waking up, is that you're supposed to both fall asleep and wake up, what you're not supposed to do is distinctly remember being in the top of a skyscraper with a knife to a dead Courser's neck, and then be in an nearly empty subway with the only company being a man hidden behind a newspaper.

"No," Said the man behind the paper, in a hauntingly familiar voice, "to answer your first question, you're not dead."

"Who'er" Allen mumbled out, still taking stock of his surroundings.

"And yes," The voice said, poking his head out from the paper, revealing the face of Liam Wilson, "That is exactly who you think it is."

"Oh fuck," Allen groaned,rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand, "It had to be you."

"You must really like me," Liam commented, folding up the newspaper and throwing it down the aisle, "You could have hallucinated anyone; Marion, Uncle Derek, you could even replay your honeymoon with Nora," Liam counted the options on his fingers, "Instead you've got lil' ol me."

"Have you got a point?" Allen groaned out, struggling to stay upright, his skin felt free of injuries, but his clothes were bloodstained, and his body felt heavy.

"Probably," Liam shrugged, "we'll get there eventually," Liam stood up and grabbed one of the overhead bars. "For now though, you might want to hold on to something," He motioned as if to lift Allen onto his feet "this is going to be a bumpy ride."

The Subway started to shake throwing Allen to the ground.

* * *

"Shit," Deacon exclaimed, as his friend fell to the ground. "Shit!" he repeated, as he started patting down his pockets, searching for stimpaks.

"Goddamnit," He mumbled, searching through Allen's coat, "You are not invincible, why do you never pack enough stimpaks?"

He didn't find any stimpaks, but he did find a smoke grenade.

"I really hope this is for a vertibird, and not a artillery strike." Deacon lifted Allen as best he could, "But then again, either one solves this problem in one way or another."

He started for the door to the balcony, briefly looking back at the Courser Corpse.

"Fuck it," He mumbled, "I'll be back for the chip, just be patient, Allen, please be patient."

* * *

One jolt and Allen was another the floor of the subway, Allen closed his eyes and the rumbling stopped. When he reopened them, he was no longer on the subway, instead he was in the passenger seat of Nora's old car, his face pressed against the glass, with Nora in the driver's seat.

" Hey soldier boy," she said, reaching over to tuck a bit of his hair behind his ear, "I like the new bandanna, I never liked the skull one." Allen leaned into Nora's touch, before the dashboard caught his eye, focusing in on the date.  
"I remember this day." He mumbled, his eyes blinking slowly.

"Oh yeah?" Nora said, still staring at Allen, "What day was this?"

"It was the day you asked me to move in." He reminisced, slowly sitting up. "Can you keep your eyes on the road please?"

"I asked you?" She asked, incredulously, "You came into my car, with nothing more than a office building as an address, and a motel reservation," Nora shook her head a bit, "And you thought I, in good conscious, was just gonna let you walk away?"

"Wouldn't be the first time…" Allen shook some of the exhaustion away, "I've lived like that."

"You needed a home, my soldier boy," Nora patted Allens chest when she said his nickname. "I tried to give that to you." Allen reached and entwined Nora's fingers in his.

"You always were too nice for your own good." Allen smiled, kissing Nora's hand. "Can you keep your eyes on the road, please?"

"It's a dream," She reminded "What's the worst that can happen?"

Her words were punctuated by a sudden impact that sent the car flying.

* * *

"Hey!" Deacon shouted at the Brotherhood knight who had just dropped Allen onto the floor of the vertibird, "Be careful." Ignoring the Knights mumbled apology he turned to pilot. "Take us to Commonwealth Community hospital.

"The Prydwen is fully stocked." The pilot argued, an argument he quickly lost.

"The Hospital is closer," It wasn't so much Deacons point, but the barrel of the 10mm the pilot found so convincing, "it's along the river, now move."

Deacon had been taken lessons in soft but psychopathic threats from Allen, sure he wasn't top of the class but it was enough to frighten this pilot.

* * *

Briefly, Allen felt like he was flying through the air, but the impact wasn't on cement like he expected, but on metal and glass.

When he opened his eyes, he was back in the Vault 111 Cryo pod.

"Oh goddamnit," He mumbled, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against the glass, trying to cool his throbbing headache, when he opened his eyes, to was to Kellogg's scared face.

"Well, well, well," Kellogg smiled, lighting a cigar, "A tv dinner once again." He let a humorless chuckle. "You know, I half expected you to have made it to the institute by now.

"What do you want, Kellogg?" Allen demanded, his words muddled by the exhaustion he was still battling.

"I'm just going on a walk through memory lane," He defended, "Wouldn't be the first time you and I have strolled that path together." He reminded, "What was it I said, the first time around?"

The speakers in Allens pod crackled to life, but instead of the automated vault tec voice, it was Kellogg's

"The thing about happiness, is that you only know you have it when it's gone, I mean you may think to yourself that you're happy. But you don't really believe it. You focus on the petty bullshit, or the next job, or whatever." The real life Kellogg pulled a switch, and Allens pod opened leaving Allen to fall into Kellogg's waiting arms, leaving the scared man to finish the speech. "It's only looking back, by comparison with what comes after that you really understand, that's what happiness felt like."

"I knew I was happy." Allen argued, "I knew I was happy with Nora."

"Who says I'm talking about Nora?"

Kellogg dropped Allen, letting him crash onto the floor, which felt oddly soft.

* * *

"Fetch any O blood we have in stock." Curie ordered one of the nurses, as her Team carried Allen on a stretcher towards the operating room.

"He's AB," Deacon interrupted, "He's a…"

"Universal receiver," Curie interrupted, "thank you monsieur Deacon," Was her farewell before disappearing into a room, leaving Deacon in the middle of Covenants square.

"Shit" He mumbled running his hand over his head, "shit."

Too many thoughts, too much to do, should he go to Courser? Should he stay here? Should he go see Des? So much to do, too much.

Where does he start? Where should he start?

* * *

When Allen opened his eyes again, he was laying on soft grass and wet soil, not too far away from a campfire, and on the other side sat Liam, breaking twigs off of a branch.

"Glad to see you made it here," Liam commented, snapping a twig. "If I'm being honest I had my doubts."

Allen didn't try getting up, "If it's all the same, I'd much rather go to the next scene right about now." He mumbled, rubbing his temple against the soil.

"Well that certainly seems like a good idea," Liam said, breaking another twig "But we're actually going to need some audience participation right about now."

"Can you stop that?" Allen requested, kicking against the ground trying to find a foothold.

"Stop what?"

"Pretending that you're something more than a dream." He clarified, finally managing to sit up. "This is all in my head."

"Of course we're in your head," Liam sat up into a squat, and made his way beside Allen, "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't be listening to us. Maybe this is just your way of processing something you already know?"

"And what is it I already know?" Allen demanded, leaning on Liam's shoulder for support.

Liam just through one of the twigs in the fire, instead of broadening the blaze, the colors changed, showing a army trench, strewn about with corpses.

"Remember Alaska December 2068?" Liam asked, "Remember how long your regiment had to hold those trenches for?" Allen nodded, "Do you remember how many you killed?"

"No clue," Allen answered, "Spent a lot of time firing blind."

"Remember what you told Marion, when he asked you about it?"

Allen wanted to answer, but his words sprung from the fire like embers.

"It was one of the best days of my life," The embers sparkled out, "Just our best and their best, with the highest stakes possible."

"I'm not proud of that answer," Allen said, mumbling into his collar.

"No reason not to be," Liam threw another twig into the fire, the image changing from the trench to the basement of a hospital, Allen recognised as the set up from his face off with Sinjin, when he was the Shroud. "Did you ever tell Piper exactly how much fun being the Shroud was?" Liam asked, "How fun it was to just let loose?"

"It was simpler than my time with the CIA," Allen justified, "That's all."

"That's part of it," Liam accepted, "a big part, but if you want to survive what's to come, you can't just be mostly you," Liam tossed another twig into the fire, the scene changing again, this time to the remnants of the Covenant labs, "You have to every part," Liam started throwing more twigs in,

"The good," it showed an image of Shaun and Nora's smiling faces.

"The bad," A destroyed brotherhood outpost.

"And the fucking horrific," the city of Kiev, covered in chemical gasses.

"The things you're proud of," A crowd of Minutemen, cheering his name.

Allen finally pushed himself off of Liam, "What the hell am I missing?" He demanded, falling to the ground again.

Liam stood up, and offered Allen a hand, "Do you really want me to spell it out for you?" He asked.

"Yes," Allen said, accepting his friends hand, being pulled into a sitting position, "I don't have the energy for this."

Liam nodded, and threw another twig into the fire, this time the fire showed nothing special, another campfire, just like this one.

"A part of you is glad you lived." Liam explained,

"Of course," Allen nodded, deflecting, "This way I have a chance to save Shaun."

"Not that," Liam denied, "Well, also that," he admitted with a shrug, "but also because you fucking love this world."

"What?" Allen deadpanned.

"You love it," Liam tossed the twigs into the fire one at time, but it seemed this time it was just for dramatic effect, "You love the lousy food, you love sleeping in shifts, you love not going a day without getting into a firefight with a bunch of raiders."

"No," Allen started shaking his head.

"You love the constant running, the struggle for survival."

"No,"

"You're a warrior, Marks, heir to the great fighters of history, what better world for you than this one." Liam gestured to the world around him.

"No!" Allen shouted, suddenly jumping to his feet, the weight of his body gone, the exhaustion of his wounds disappearing.

"Hey," Liam said, motioning for allen to sit, "hey," he said again, trying to calm him, "It's alright, you're still everything you thought you were; a father, a husband, a son, a soldier, a spy." Liam and Allen sat down again, "You don't have to like it, or embrace it, and you can keep trying to repress it, you just have to admit it exists."

"Why?" Allen asked, laying on the dirt again.

"You gotta," Liam said, as if that explained everything, "If you go into this without all the facts, without all your ducks in a row, you might do something you regret."

Allen just groaned into the dirt, his eyelids growing heavy.

"Get some rest," Liam ordered, patting Allen on the shoulder, "Think about it more when you wake up."

* * *

It took one deep breath for Deacon to decide his course of action, one deep and calming breath.

If Allen died, Deacon would need to get the chip, If he lived he would be confined to bed, and Deacon would need to get the chip.

All things pointed to Deacon needing to get the chip and get it to Tinker Tom to be decoded.

There was no good for him to do here, so he had to leave, and do what good he could elsewhere.

Maybe make a stop at Diamond City along the way, if the reporter was going to kill him for letting this happen to Allen, he might as well get that part over with.


	5. All this and heaven

Piper wasn't expecting Allen to be conscious when she made it to the hospital. Maybe she should have, but she wasn't.

Instead Allen was conscious, he was groggy, tired, and it seemed to hurt him just to move, but he was awake.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Was how he greeted her, her feet glued to the entryway, "Seriously," He insisted, as she slowly made her way to his bedside "Curie said that with plenty of rest I'll even get back to full functionality." His words would have been more credible if they weren't groaned out through the effort of simply trying to sit up. "Hey," He said, reaching out to pat her shoulder, "I'm gonna be okay, promise."

It was by now she realised that she hadn't said anything.

"I know," She accepted, taking his hand off her shoulder, and clutching it gently between her hands. "But…"

"I know." he nodded, "This looks bad, but Curie said a few days rest and a couple weeks in cast and I'll be fine."

"So you'll be out and about tomorrow?" Piper joked, still holding onto Allen's hand.

"No," he said, causing Piper to drop Allens hand in shock, "This time I'll wait."

"Deacon said this happened fighting a Courser," Piper commented, "I thought you'd be hell bent on getting to work."

"Deacon'll get the chip," He explained, "He'll get it to Tom, and then I'll direct him towards Virgil, it'll take a while for everything to get set up." He scratched at his shoulder with the hand not currently in a cast. "There's nothing I can do but wait."

"You're learning." Piper smiled, and pulled a seat to Allen's bedside. "A while back you wouldn't have been caught dead waiting on your hands."

"True enough," He agreed, "Hey look," His tone shifted into something lighter, "I'm gonna be pretty boring for the next few days, there's probably a dozen and one things you'd rather be doing." He motioned to the doorway, "There's no need to stay here if there's work to be done in Diamond City."

"I'm right where I want to be," Piper reassured, patting Allen on the shoulder, causing the man to jolt a little.

"Right." He said, nodding, "Well then," He started padding down his pillow, "If i'm being honest the painkillers are started to kick in, and I'd really like to get some sleep." He had finally found his spot, and closed his eyes.

"I'll be here when you wake up." Piper assured.

He mumbled something unintelligible, and rolled over.

* * *

Even after hours of sleep, It still took Allen a little while to wake up, to shake the sleep away and reach a coherent thought, but when he did his thoughts were of Shaun, not of his smile, not of trying to find him, but of all the fatherly lessons Allen would teach his son. Like: It's okay to cry, never assume the other person knows everything you know, make time for little pleasures, but most of all, don't ever fall in love.

Don't ever fall in love, kiddo, because the world is cruel and likes to take things away from you, and if it takes away the people you love, than it will feel like the worlds come to an end and that there's nothing good left in the universe.

Don't ever fall in love, little big man, because losing it, seeing the person you love permanently ripped away from you is the most painful thing in all the world, and even though you potentially had years of happiness before losing them, it almost didn't seem worth it.

When Allen woke up, all he could look at was Piper, who had fallen asleep on a chair near his bed, and seemed to have slumped onto his good arm. And all he could think about, while looking at her, is Shaun and all the advice he wanted to give his son.

Don't ever fall in love, Shaun, because you're probably gonna grow up to be big and strong, and the thing about being strong, is that eventually you get better, and even though the pain of losing the love of your life seems endless, eventually it gets better. Maybe even good.

Don't ever fall in love, please, because even though there will always be a corner of your heart reserved for them, and it's not just for now either, you could live a thousand years and there will always be that part of your heart reserved for them, the heart is endless and it always make room for more, for others.

When Allen woke up, Piper was asleep slumped over and her head on his good arm and before he could wake up fully, before his mind was his own, his heart did a double take. The Kind of double take that short circuits your systems, and leaves you with a few important details and nothing else. The kind of double take that shows your heart will know more than your head ever did.

Don't ever fall in love, because the world is kind, and if you are strong enough to survive it the first time, you'll eventually fall in love again, and if he's being honest, that's its own kind of hell.

* * *

To the casual observer, Allen and Piper were the same as they ever were, maybe even better.

She never left his bedside for as long as he was confined to it.

But things _had_ changed, there was a distant tenderness about them, an anxiety as if being in the same room together was both all they wanted, but the last thing they needed.

Allen knows for a fact that Deacon came to visit him, that they talked about the Courser, about Virgil, he was given regular updates about the teleporter to the Institute the Railroad was building.

But for the life of him, Allen would not be able to tell you exactly what was said. But the message was more or less clear, it might take a few weeks, but the road to the Institute was almost open.

* * *

Bad dreams and Allen have something of an understanding, most nights they steer clear of him, and he doesn't complain on the rare occasion he has a nightmare.

But ever since that first night, he has had less than peaceful nights rest. None so clear as the first one, but every night we wakes up with new fragments of dreams. And every morning he'd wake up just a little bit more uncertain of the coming mission.

He tried to hide it, emphasis on tried. But the morning he woke up with Nora's lingering voice whispering "So you've fallen for the reporter, that's gonna complicate things," Was the morning he accidentally shouted himself awake.

And since Piper hadn't left his side, she was there to see it, and since she was not having "don't worry about it," after that performance, Allen was forced to explain. Well, he explained parts of it. There were certain _very specific details he_ _ **absolutely**_ couldn't share.

He laid what he could on the table, his dreams, his doubts, his shame at the things Liam implied.

"I don't understand." Was Piper's response.

"My mind thinks I like this world," Allen explained, "I think that I'm a little glad the nukes fell."

"No that part I understand," She said, "But why do you think you'll fail if you don't accept that?"

"I don't know." Allen admitted, shaking his head "But apparently I know something, and that something is important." He shifted in place, and scratched at the space above his cast, "I'm starting to think that real Liam was right, god really does hate men like me and this really isn't going to finish well." he spoke more into his collar than anywhere else.

"Allen!" Piper chastised, shifting until she had put herself in his line of sight "Blue, listen to me, if there's even the smallest of chances of this working out for you, it will."

"I'm not so sure anymore." He admitted, turning away before doing a poor job of changing the subject.

* * *

It was strange, seeming since she had met him, Piper had been trying to remind Allen that he's only human, and not to wade out of his depth.

But standing here, In Hangman's Alley, in front of the finished teleporter, might be the first moment that Piper has realised that _she_ might be out of _her_ depth.

She could barely hear Des and Allen talking, over the hum of the generators, she caught a few key words, like "Patriot" and "Make contact." but Allen had to fill in the gaps.

"They have and inside man with the institute." he explained, as they made there way to the platform. "They want me to make contact and go from there."

"How?" She asked stopping Allen in his tracks.

"By doing what I do best," He said giving a sly grin, "Going undercover." Allen stepped up onto the platform, and gave Tom a thumbs up.

They should being saying goodbye, they should be giving each other hugs, there's a million and one things they should be doing. But all they did was not break eye contact while the teleporter did its work. While Tom panicked as it seemed to come apart around The Operative.

But Allen was completely still, and Piper was stuck to her spot.

There wasn't much either could say before Allen was whisked away, but Piper did manage to shout.

"Come home safe, Please!" she tried to be stoic, but this wasn't a poker game or a story, this was her friend, and...well there were a lot of maybes floating around.

There wasn't much to say, and what there was Allen certainly wasn't brave enough to say it.

So all he could say, moments before he was whisked away was…

"Ya tebya lyublyu"


End file.
